The Hidden Adventures: Ana's Story
by Someday Sara
Summary: Holmes and Watson are a world famous team, but nobody ever knew about the third detective - the one who proved the most unusual of all!
1. Chapter One

As used as I am to the adventures of my friend Sherlock Holmes, I must admit I was startled when, in the middle of the night, I was shaken awake. Holmes was standing over me with his dark lantern lit but shaded - I could smell the hot metal burning.  
  
Holmes put a finger to his lips and then nodded towards our sitting room. I was instantly awake and straining my ears against the night. It was a moment before I heard what Holmes obviously already had - a soft rustling and tread of footsteps.   
  
Holmes leaned down towards me and whispered in my ear. "I am going to take him by surprise. When I yell, open the lantern."  
  
I nodded and took the lantern from his hands. In the darkness, I could just make out the revolver Holmes pulled from his dressing gown pocket.  
  
Together we crept to the bedroom door, Holmes listening intently. Then, in one swift movement he flung the door open and pounced on our intruder. The room was instantly filled with the sounds of a violent struggle. The floorboards creaked, a punch was thrown, the table was overturned and something glass shattered  
  
"Watson!" came Holmes' urgent voice, and I opened the lantern, flooding the room with light.  
  
In the middle of our disheveled room Holmes was crouched, one knee in the back of our rather small perpetrator and rendering the criminal helpless by holding his gloved hands together. The cool steel of the revolver was nuzzled against the back of our unfortunate guest.  
  
Holmes was speaking gently to his captive. "I would advise you not to move. I am going to turn you over. If you attempt to run, I will shoot."  
  
He grasped the shoulder of the small stranger and turned him over. A black mask covered the features of the stranger and Holmes defiantly stripped it off.  
  
A tumble of golden hair fell from the mask, and I found my self staring in shock at the young girl. Her blue eyes blinked in a frightened way, but her soft pink lips tightened into a thin line. She took advantage of Holmes' shock and hit him round the head. The revolver dropped and the girl scrambled for the door. Holmes leapt and caught her round the middle, the force of which slammed them both through the unlocked door. I ran to follow them out to the landing, astonished.  
  
The girl and Holmes were locked in a furious battle, but she had a definite advantage. While Holmes was hesitant about striking the young lady, she had no qualm at all and was obviously giving him her best. She broke free of his grasp and tumbled headlong down the stairs, where she lay at the bottom, moaning. She was still for a moment and Holmes stood and watched in horror.  
  
Then, much to our surprise she righted herself and was out the front door before we could move. Holmes was down the stairs in a flash and ran out into the snowy night. I started down the stairs, only to be met by Holmes rushing back up. "Quickly Watson!" he cried. "Your things!"  
  
In a matter of moments we were dressed and pulling on our coats. Holmes and I followed the footsteps left in the snow, shivering in the pale lamp light. We were led down to the less respectable area of London, and I was growing colder and uneasier each moment.   
  
Holmes stopped suddenly, and put an arm out in front of me. I had been absorbed in buttoning my coat tighter and had the wind knocked out of me. Then I heard the voices, too. Angry yells in the night. I couldn't make out the words, but it sounded like a man's voice, and a young girl's! We crept closer, trying not to make a sound in the deep snow.  
  
Now we were at the edge of a dim alleyway, and Holmes and I hid in a darkened doorway.  
  
"...caught?!" said the man's voice, enraged.  
  
"I swear that..." came a desperate pleading - and then a gunshot.   
  
Holmes and I both stiffened, and in the silence that followed, stared at each other in horror. Someone strode briskly out of the alley, tucking a pistol into his jacket. He glanced down both sides of the street, and Holmes and I both drew back against the doorway.  
  
Fortunately he did not see us, and brought a small bottle from his pocket. He drained the bottle and hurried away, a slight stagger in his walk.  
  
Holmes waited until he could no longer see him then sprang from the doorway. In a flurry of snow, we ran down the alleyway. In a corner, slumped over, lay the girl.  
  
I gasped as Holmes slowly lifted her, noting the blood that was slowly blooming from her arm. After a quick examination I removed my scarf and bound the wound.  
  
"Watson? What do you - "  
  
"She'll be alright, if we can get her back home I can patch her up..."  
  
Holmes swung the girl into his arms and stood. She groaned and struggled to open her eyes, then lay still. He kicked some snow over the bloodstain on the ground and glanced at the sky. A few flakes began to fall and he muttered something about "cover the footprints..."  
  
Then, "Come, Watson."  
  
The two of us hurried back to Baker Street.  



	2. Chapter Two

The wound was not serious, and the girl slept, if not peacefully, through the night. After tending her I retired to my room, however, Sherlock stayed by her side all night.  
  
In the morning, I found him reclining in his chair, with a rather vile cloud of smoke wreathing both him and the sofa where the girl lay.  
  
"Really, Holmes!" I said sharply, opening a window and fanning the smoke out. "It's not healthy for the young lady here..."  
  
"She's been used to worse," Holmes said quietly.   
  
"Holmes?"  
  
He pushed back one of her sleeves to reveal several livid bruises, and a long, wicked scar.   
  
"Orphaned at a young age, she has been quite obviously abused and the, shall we say, possession of an opium dealer. Roughly fifteen years of age and very skilled at picking locks - travels frequently from town to town. She is strong but easily beaten into submission, and unusually clever. Other than that..." Sherlock shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."  
  
I was about to start in with my usual indignation when the girl stirred. Her eyes fluttered open but were unfocused and uncomprehending. Then she blinked, startled, and tried to sit up. She gave a hiss of pain as her injured arm protested.  
  
Sherlock put his pipe down and helped the girl sit up. She took a deep breath and then gasped and swore.   
  
"Where? What?" the girl said, then pushed Holmes away and jumped to her feet. She began to run away, quickly, towards the door but tripped over the rug. Holmes stood, caught her arm, and shoved her back to the couch, slipping the revolver from his pocket. He cocked it and aimed it towards the girl.  
  
She gulped and blinked, then nodded fearfully and sat back.  
  
"Very good then," Holmes said.  
  
There was a knock on the door and I opened it. It was Mrs. Hudson, balancing a rather large breakfast tray. Seeming not to notice the girl, she bustled in, set the tray on the table, and left, muttering about laundry under her breath.  
  
Holmes put the revolver away and sat at the table, uncovering the large dishes of steaming food.   
  
"Ah, Watson. Won't you join me for breakfast?"  
  
Confused, I sat down and helped myself to a plate. Sherlock was watching the girl as he spooned porridge into a bowl. He lifted the spoon to his mouth and, never taking his eyes off the girl, made a show of eating it.   
  
With a snarl of desperation, the girl leapt for the table. Holmes put out an arm to stop her, then put a hand on her shoulder and forced her to sit. He put and empty plate in front of her and then held out a hot, buttered roll. She reached for it, her eyes wide with hunger. Holmes pulled it back.  
  
"Your name?" he asked, holding the roll teasingly.  
  
She hesitated. "Ana," she said, and snatched the roll from his hands. She devoured it in a matter of seconds.  
  
"Tell me, Ana," Holmes said soothing, placing an egg on her plate and handing her a fork, "What is the name of your employer?"  
  
Her mouth full of egg Ana replied, slightly muffled, "Some'imes 'enry Oakland. Some'imes 'e Po'fesser."  
  
Holmes raised his eyebrows and placed another egg on her plate, "And what do you do for them?"  
  
"Odd jobs."  
  
"Like attempting to steal Dr. Watson's records?"  
  
"Not usually. Just this once, then."  
  
In this way Holmes continued to feed and pump the girl for information. This continued for half and hour. When they were both satisfied Holmes rang for Mrs. Hudson to come for the tray.  
  
"Bless my soul!" Mrs. Hudson said, noticing Ana for the first time. "What a dirty little child! And what? Another of your clients?"  
  
"Why, yes." Holmes said, with some amusement. "And I dare say she is in need of a good wash."  
  
Ana's eyes widened.  
  
"You come with me!" Mrs. Hudson said, balancing the tray in one arm and towing the girl behind her with the other. Ana made several sputtering protests as Mrs. Hudson dragged her out the door.  
  
When they were gone Holmes sat back and laughed, lighting his pipe. He chuckled as he said, "Well, we've certainly got him now!"  
  
"Who?" I said.  
  
"'E Po'fesser," Holmes said, imitating Ana's voice. "The Professor, don't you see? Professor..."  
  
"Not Moriarty!"  
  
"Certain, my good fellow, who else? That girl is a gold mine!" Holmes took the pipe from his teeth and pointed it at me. "Do you realize what we have here? Someone who has actually worked for the Professor, almost directly if I'm not very much mistaken. She will know things that even my runners wouldn't..."  
  
Holmes sat back and puffed his pipe contentedly, already lost in thought.  
  
This was really too much for me, and for lack of anything better to do, I read the papers.   
  
"There's been a second jewelry theft at Madame Winston's. Just last night," I mentioned.  
  
"No!" Holmes sat upright.  
  
"Yes, and apparently they got away with her famous diamond this time..."  
  
"The canary diamond, am I right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Holmes drew it from his pocket. "Oh dear," he said.  
  
I gasped at the beauty of the yellow stone. "But Holmes! Where...?"  
  
  
"I found it in the pocket of our dear girl last night. But since it was not set in jewelry, I assumed it was payment for this job. No, this is the canary diamond, but I can tell it was not directly a Moriarty job. Had it been, this would not have been in the papers today, he's far too clever for that. But because the girl is employed by Moriarty, she has kept the stone, not to his knowledge. And now that it is in the papers, he knows she has it."  
  
Holmes sat back, looking slightly overwhelmed himself. "Do you follow me?"  
  
"It is a bit confusing," I admitted.  
  
At that moment the door opened and Mrs. Hudson bustled in, towing the girl. "Now my niece happened to be visiting and she had outgrown this, so your girl can keep it. I dare say she needs it..."  
  
Mrs. Hudson left us staring at Ana.  
  
Clean, she really was quite pretty, and the simple blue dress matched her eyes. She twisted her hands together and avoided her eyes. Then she saw the stone and gasped.  
  
Holmes said casually, "Yes, I know. But if you cooperate, I will not turn you in."  
  
"Cooperate?"  
  
Holmes' eyes shone with excitement. "How would we go about getting a written confession out of Moriarty - a confession big enough to put him in jail for life?"  
  
Ana was silent, a mix of fear and distrust on her face.  
  
"You would be under our protection," Holmes said softly. "I promise he will never hurt you under our care."  
  
"It's easy," she said after a moment, looking at the floor. "The Professor keeps a log of the jobs he hires out. If you pretended you were interested, then... I, I could take you to the right people. But wouldn't you be recognized, Mr. Holmes?"  
  
"I have, among other things, a talent for disguises. Are feeling well enough to take me this afternoon?"  
  
Ana hesitated. Sherlock twirled the diamond in his fingers, eyebrows raised.  
  
"Yes." She said, with a trace of resentment.  
  
"We leave in half and hour," Holmes said, and stood. He handed me the revolver. "Watch her for me, there's a chap," he said and disappeared into his room, taking the diamond with him.  
  



	3. Chapter Three

Holmes never failed to amaze me with his disguises. He emerged from his room as a pompous, slightly overweight gentlemen, festooned with jewelry and watch chains, smoking an expensive cigar.   
  
I had been sitting uncomfortably, pointing the revolver at the girl. She had sunken into the couch, crossed her arms, and rolled her eyes several times. I rather thought it was the diamond more than my presence that kept her from leaving.   
  
According to Holmes, Ana was a clever child, but she stared at him in disbelief and there was no trace of recognition in her face. Then she shook her head, stood, and with a rather scornful glance at the two of us, announced they would need a cab.   
  
Sherlock nodded a quick goodbye to me and followed Ana out the door.  
  
Time passed slowly, and I tried to amuse myself with the rest of the papers, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Ana. Would she and Holmes be successful?  
  
About an hour later, I heard footsteps on the stair and Holmes opened the door for Ana. She was shivering, with Holmes' cloak wrapped around her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed and a few snowflakes sparkled in her hair, giving her an angelic look.  
  
Holmes took the cloak from her shoulders and hung it on the coat rack, grinning.  
  
"Well?" I asked, impatient.  
  
"The girl has been most helpful..." Holmes chuckled.  
  
Ana had walked to the mantelpiece, inspecting the papers and the knives that pinned them there. She muttered something about "blackmail..."  
  
"Blackmail now, is it?" Holmes laughed. "Yes, I suppose it is. Here's what happened, Watson.  
  
"We went back again to the lower area of London, where Ana instructed the cabby to stop at a pub - 'The Horseshoe,' if I remember correctly. There, she led me around to the back door and knocked thrice. The door was opened by a rather large fellow, with a grizzly black beard and a patch over his left eye. 'We want to see Skinner,' Ana said. 'What for?' he asked. 'A job for the gentleman,' Ana said, indicating myself.  
  
"We were admitted into the pub, but Ana poked me in the back. "Give 'im a fiver...' she hissed. I did, and the man led us to a darkened back room. In the shadows of this room, a man was sitting behind a desk. Roughly five foot, six inches and slightly overweight. His features were indistinguishable in the dim light and he was wearing dark gloves. "Tell 'im you want someone out of the way... a business partner, maybe," Ana whispered. I repeated her words and the man handed me this."  
  
Holmes handed me a small slip of paper, on which was written - Tuesday, Four O'Clock, 137 Ashwood Road.   
  
"You'll notice the paper is slightly thicker than usual, but no watermark. No fingerprints. Quite frustrating, actually. The man in the shadows then wrote the same thing in his ledger. Oh, what I would give for that ledger!... Ana, for heaven's sake, put the knife back!"  
  
Ana gave a disgruntled sigh and pulled the knife out of her pocket, stabbing it back into the mantelpiece. I jumped, startled. She turned and began to inspect the bookshelf, pulling books off at random and flipping through the pages.   
  
"And I WILL have that ledger. Tonight."  
  
Ana had found my book of case files and was clutching it with excited eyes. Then she heard Holmes and snorted. "The ledger is locked in a safe, guarded. I've never been able to get it, what makes you think you will?"  
  
"I'll have your help," Holmes said casually.  
  
"No, you won't." Still clutching the case files, Ana walked past the two of us, towards the door.   
  
"What about the diamond, my dear?"  
  
Ana stopped and turned back towards us. With a look of triumph, she reached in her pocket and held the gem up. Holmes gave a yelp and plunged his hand into his pocket, pulling out a small rock. "You little..." he growled.  
  
Ana looked frightened and bolted for the door, muttering, "Oh, now I've done it!"  
  
Holmes was there faster and slammed the door shut in front of her. Ana backed away.   
  
"Give it to me." Holmes held out a hand.  
  
"No!"  
  
He took a step closer. "Give it to me!"  
  
"I won't!" She clutched the diamond and my papers to her chest.  
  
Holmes made a grab for the jewel, and she tripped backwards over the rug. The papers went flying, and the diamond rolled to my feet. I bent to pick it up, but Ana flipped on her stomach and lunged for it, snatching it from my fingers. She stood and Holmes pinned her against the wall. She threw up her hands in defense or surprise and...  
  
With a small smash of glass and rush of cold air, the diamond tumbled to the streets below. The three of us pressed up against the window, just in time to see it totter on the edge of a sewer pipe, and fall in.  
  
"Damn!"  
  
"Oh, gracious..."  
  
Holmes just laughed.  



	4. Chapter Four

"Now look what you made me do!" Ana was sputtering with indignation.  
  
"Well, I do seem to have lost my only claim on you..." Holmes said, chuckling.  
  
"Claim? Claim? You don't have a claim on me!" Ana was red with rage.  
  
"Go on, then. Leave." Holmes said. "Moriarty thinks you have the diamond."  
  
"He also thinks I'm dead!"  
  
"And when he finds out you're not? Or, for that matter, if Scotland Yard finds out you're not?"  
  
Ana paused, confused.  
  
"But help me get that ledger, and you'll be under my protection," Holmes said softly.  
  
"I don't need protection!"  
  
"Fine then." Holmes turned business like. "Fifty pounds for your services tonight."  
  
She narrowed her eyes in thought. It was a full minute before she spoke. "Deal."  
  
"What will you need, then?"  
  
Ana glanced down at her dress. "My old clothes!"  
  
Holmes rang for Mrs. Hudson, then turned to Ana in exasperation.   
  
"But for the last time, Ana, put the knife BACK!" he said. Ana rolled her eyes, pulled it from her dress, aimed, and threw it into the mantelpiece. It vibrated slightly in the woodwork. I shuddered.  
  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"Will you be QUIET?" Ana's eyes were livid.  
  
I pushed the dustbins upright. "Sorry, sorry..."  
  
She turned to Holmes. "Did we have to bring him?"  
  
"Yes, yes, of course," Holmes said, "He's our distinguished look out, the one person on whom this entire operation hinges!"  
  
I swelled with pride and stiffened to attention.  
  
"Well, he. Stays. Out. Side." Ana said.   
  
Holmes whispered in her ear. "Of course. Continue."  
  
Ana pulled a large lock pick from her back pocket and bent to examine the lock. In a minute, she turned the handle triumphantly and eased the door inwards. The inside of the pub was dark, and Sherlock lit his dark lantern. The two of them walked cautiously inside.  
  
Forgetting my post as look out, I watched from the doorway.  
  
Ana bent to pick the lock into the room they had been in before. I heard them enter and Holmes say with a flourish, "Allow me..."  
  
"Stupid copper! You couldn't open it if your life depended on it!" Ana hissed.  
  
I leaned in farther to hear.  
  
"Be my guest, then." Holmes sounded annoyed.  
  
A deep-throated growl jerked my attention back to the alley. I gulped and began to sweat. "Nice doggie..." I murmured. "Good doggie... Biiiiig doggie..."  
  
From inside the pub Holmes said, "Are you satisfied now? Let me have a crack at it." Ana grunted.  
  
"Would the doggie like a... a..." I searched my pockets. "A nice crumpet? Yes, yes he would!" I tossed the mashed crumpet to the dog, who sniffed it once and began to eat.  
  
Holmes gave a triumphant laugh and Ana murmured "Beginner's luck..."  
  
The dog finished the crumpet, and began to growl again. I searched my pockets again, but found nothing.  
  
There was silence from inside the inn, which I later found out was a shocked silence.  
  
"Holmes!" I whispered frantically. The dog advanced, hackles bared. "Holmes!" I shouted.  
  
He was at my side in an instant, Ana not far behind him. The dog leapt, barking madly. Holmes kicked it away, and it landed with a thud in the corner of the alley, unmoving.  
  
"Come on!" Holmes whispered, dragging me by the arm. Ana trotted behind us.  
  
The dog, in the corner, whined and raised its head, then stood and growled. We turned in fear as it slammed Ana to the ground. Holmes cried out and wrenched the dog from her.   
  
The monsterous creature bared its teeth and began slashing at Holmes. He was holding it away from his face, but the teeth were grinding closer...  
  
Suddenly the dog went stiff and unmoving, falling to Ana's feet. She took a shuddering gasp and wiped her mouth with a blood colored sleeve.   
  
Then she held up the knife.  
  
"I... I promise..." she said in a shaky voice, "I promise I'll put it back."  
  
Holmes stood in silence for a moment, staring at the girl. Then he reached out and took the knife from her trembling hand. He brushed a strand of hair from her face and then gently wiped the blood away. He took her hand and nodded to me.   
  
The night fog rolled around us as we walked back to Baker Street.  
  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
I had seen Holmes in many different situations. I had seen him fearful, happy, angry, and even confused, but I had never seen him quite like this before.  
  
Ana was asleep on the couch, breathing softly with one hand tangled in her hair. Sherlock pulled a blanket over her and then stood watching.  
  
After a moment he spoke.  
  
"Do you know, Watson," Holmes said, "I think I would have liked to have been a father."  



	5. Chapter Five

In the morning I found Holmes pacing back and forth in front of the mantelpiece, smoking a pipe and muttering "This afternoon..."  
  
"Holmes?" I asked.  
  
"Our appointment, of course. With Moriarty." Holmes was grim and deep in thought.  
  
Ana stirred on the couch and sat up, blinking. "'Morning..." she muttered. "Where's breakfast?"  
  
Holmes gave an impatient wave of the hand. Ana grunted and stood, tripped over the rug, and stumbled towards the table. She found some left over toast from Holmes' breakfast and sat to eat it.  
  
"Well, Watson. Are you up to joining me for our meeting with evil?"  
  
"Certainly! Will we go in costume?"  
  
"No, no. Moriarty would see through that at once! He already knows who we are. This is what we found in the safe last night." Holmes handed me a slip of paper, on which was written: WE MEET AGAIN, MR. HOLMES.  
  
"Oh dear." I said. "You're going even though he knows you're coming?"  
  
Holmes went back to smoking his pipe. "We'll leave at half past three. You have your army revolver, I believe?"  
  
Half past three came surprisingly quick, and I found my revolver and put it in my pocket. Holmes shrugged into his best jacket and found his top hat.   
  
"Ana, put the knife back," he said disgustedly.   
  
"But...!"  
  
"Put it back. You're not coming."  
  
"What?" Ana sounded angry and incredulous.  
  
"It's far too dangerous. You'll stay here. Are you ready Watson? Come." Holmes walked towards the door.  
  
"You can't do this!" Ana yelled. "You don't understand! Moriarty - he's my -"  
  
Holmes slammed the door in her face, adjusted his collar, and led the way down the stairs. I gave one fearful glance backwards. It sounded as though a knife had been thrown into the door.  



	6. Chapter Six

"Are you sure this is the right address?"  
  
"Yes! Yes I'm sure!" Holmes sounded angry.  
  
The door was open wide, and the house was dark. Holmes entered slowly with his revolver drawn. There was a long hallway, at the end of which was a table with a single lit candle. We approached it cautiously.  
  
There was a small slip of paper on the table, and the handwriting was familiar. I bent close to see what it said -   
  
  
  
RUN.  
  
  
  
Holmes gave a yell. "No! Oh what a fool I've been! It wasn't the diamond he was after... it was... Oh, god in heaven! Watson, back to the cab, now!"  
  
Holmes eyes were wide as he yelled for the cabby to take us back to Baker Street.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   
  
He took the steps three at a time, and I hurried behind him. Holmes opened our door violently. The snowstorm outside had left the room in semi-darkness. Holmes reached out with a trembling hand and turned the gas up.  
  
The table was overturned, and anything glass was shattered. Books were pulled off the shelves, papers were scattered.   
  
A man was sitting in Holmes' chair, legs crossed and calmly smoking a cigar. Ana was laid at his feet, bound and unconscious.  
  
"Good evening Holmes," the man said.  
  
I have never seen Holmes look so angry. "Good evening, Professor," he said, eyes glinting dangerously.  
  
Moriarty spoke. "I'm not an unreasonable man, Holmes. I don't want the girl. I don't even want the diamond. I want the case files. Every single one. I've found most of them, but you're hiding some. Where?"  
  
"Holmes!" Ana's voice was barely a whisper. "Holmes, don't do it!"  
  
Moriarty reached down and pulled Ana to a stand. She moaned and tried to hide her face, but the livid bruises were apparent. Moriarty put a gun to her head. "The rest of the case files, please."  
  
Ana was groping behind her. She found a piece of broken glass and began sawing at the ropes that bound her.   
  
Shaking with rage, Holmes turned towards the mantelpiece. He picked up the small clock and pulled a key from underneath...  
  
Slowly, Moriarty aimed the gun from Ana to Sherlock's back...  
  
It all happened very quickly, but Ana and I yelled for Holmes. The ropes that held Ana's hands snapped, and she shoved the Professor backwards. The gun went off, wildly towards the ceiling and Moriarty hit Ana around the head. She fell to her knees and Moriarty pointed the gun at her...  
  
Sherlock was brutal. He leapt on the Professor and knocked him too the ground. Punch after punch, until Moriarty lay unmoving...  
  
Holmes flung the body away from him, disgusted. He pulled Ana to her feet, and held her close.   
  
  
  
"Call Scotland Yard, will you Watson?" Holmes whispered.  



	7. Epilogue

I could always tell when the two of them are coming home. Their bickering rises long before their footsteps, and then comes Sherlock's brisk tread and Ana's soft rapid thumping. The door will open to reveal one of them amused, the other irritated.  
  
"What a trying day!" Holmes announced. "Put the knife back, Ana," he said automatically. She obeyed.   
  
I thought I heard another rapid pair of feet on the stairs. "Goodness!" I said. "If I'm not mistaken, here is another client."  
  
And I was right - the door was opened by a young man, clearly in a state of considerable distress. "Oh Mr. Holmes!" he cried, then paused, unnerved by the three pairs of eyes.  
  
Holmes cleared his throat. "Please, allow my to introduce my colleague Dr. Watson and..." Holmes paused.  
  
"...and my daughter, Ana."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
THE END.   
  
*A note from the Author:  
Hey, thanks for reading my story. It has been written very quickly over the course of a week, and I am hoping to update/make changes soon. I'm very interested in your imput. Is Ana a character to continue with? Do I need more detail in her character? (I'm thinking yes) And does the idea of Holmes as adoptive father bother you?   
  
I'm hoping to write more of "The Hidden Adventures" and eventually put them all under one title. Be sure to check out my latest Ana adventure: The Unlikely Criminal. It's still in the works but it promises to be good!  
  
Thanks again for reading! Please review!  
  
Yours,  
Someday Sara 


End file.
